Desire
by wineandwit
Summary: After the war Severus is presumed dead - but Hermione refuses to believe it, and searches for him even as she herself is dying.


"Can one desire too much of a good thing?"  
-Shakespeare

I'm sick, it seems. Dying in all likelihood. They either don't know what's wrong - or won't tell me. No matter really. They've given me everything they could think of. They wanted me to stay in bed - in the ward, and just rest, while they try to come up with something else to try. Severus would be able to help. But he hasn't been seen for months. They keep telling me he's dead.

I left the hospital five days ago, and have been wandering around for the most part. By dusk I am so weak I can barely stand, and if I haven't gotten to a room for the night I usually end up on the side of the road, curled up under a tree. I don't have to push myself so hard, I know. But I need to find him - find some word of him - anything.

By the eighth day I am feverish and chilled in turns, throwing up food I can barely afford to eat. Someone in Budapest said they saw him a little over a month ago. So I trudge on - ask questions of everyone I meet, seek out those I don't. My knuckles are calloused from knocking on rough wooden doors. My clothes hang on my now guant frame, and when I looked into a mirror the other day I didn't recognize myself. Some days end before the sun has even neared the horizon, and I sleep in the woods that are all around out of need now. I'm running dangerously low on money. But I'll do whatever it takes to find him.

I touch him in my dreams. I feel his skin, his fingers caressing me - and he talks to me - tells me not to give up. Not that I ever would. Sometimes, now, when I wake up I'm fine. The fever has gone, and I can eat normally. And on those days I don't sleep and eat sparingly so as not to lose any time I could spend looking for him. Sometimes people take pity on me, and they give me money, clothing. But for the most part they avoid me until I seek them out and will not leave until they will speak to me.

Months pass, and I am a shell - skeleton thin and sallow faced. I think I scare people when I talk to them now. My voice sounds strange to my own ears. But I've been a shell since he went missing, so it really doesn't matter - does it?

And then it happened. A man said he's seen someone matching his description being held in a camp for survivors of the War - survivors with no memory. I think to myself that this is too easy - it really couldn't be him. But the man then speaks the magic words - he says the man has the Mark. I fell to the ground then - I think I fainted for a moment, and when I came to I was weak, and my legs refused to let me stand. I begged the man to take me there - I dropped the remainder of my money at his feet, and I think I was crying.

I must have fallen asleep, because soon, the man is shaking my shoulder, telling me that we have arrived. I managed to stumble from the back of the wagon I had been placed in and over to the guard at the gate. I thrust my papers at him, and he reads them and calls another guard over, who also reads them. He handed them back and asked me in broken english what I needed. I described Severus to him, and he nodded sharply. Tells me he is a prisoner - he is of the Dark.

After hours spent trying to explain Severus' role in War - I finally make them owl Albus. We waited, hours it seemed, and finally the owl returned with the proper paperwork, and I was led, half carried by then, to a small cell. I was let in and handed some papers, and the door to the cell was left open.

I saw a figure on the bed, his back to me, and as the guards walked away I clutched the doorframe for balance. For a long time it seemed as if words had failed me, and then his name burst forth from my lips. "Severus..."

He turned and looked at me, and then sat up, running his hand through hair in a gesture so desperately familiar tears sprang to my eyes. "Severus. Please - you have to remember me."

He stood up and walked to me, until he was inches away from my face. I knew what I looked like, knew I no longer resembled the vibrant, healthy young woman he had last seen. But I prayed to every God I could think of that something about me would trigger his memory.

A smile started to curl his lips up slowly, and he reached his hand up to my face.

"Honestly, Hermione, can't you do a thing about that damn hair?"

I fell into him then, sobbing and laughing in turn, while he did the same, holding me so tightly it was hard to breathe.

He carried me from the cell, and away from the prison - he never stopped talking to me as we walked. I faded in and out, and it seemed like hours, and then suddenly my eyes were assualted by a bright light.

He sat on the edge of the bed I was in - our bed, our house. He was helping me sit up, and held a small cup to my lips - he helped me drink the foul contents and then I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. I murmured softly, not even sure if I was speaking out loud. "I love you so much Severus, but I'm dying, you know..."

I must have spoken out loud though, because I heard his deep,silky voice answering me before I drifted off to sleep. "I love you, Hermione - and you aren't dying anymore."


End file.
